


Marauders’ Café

by silver_fish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barista!James, Barista!Sirius, Multi, james and sirius are dumb...but whats new, lily is tired and she hates boys, no magic, severus go to a new cafe snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-08 22:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19877227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_fish/pseuds/silver_fish
Summary: James and Sirius are insufferable, annoying, ignorant arseholes.Lily really wishes she could say that’sallthey are.





	Marauders’ Café

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this months and months ago, but recently decided to finish it up (likely to procrastinate writing the things i actually should be, but oh well). i love these three to bits and i really just wanted to write something where nobody is dead and everyone is happy, so this is what i came up with! i hope you enjoy! <3

The Marauders’ Café is only Lily’s favourite because it’s so conveniently located.

At least, that’s what she says, if someone ever asks (which they rarely do, but the defence is there, anyway, because there’s really no other strong selling points, aside from that).

It’s not that she actually hates the place or anything. Really, they have good coffee, it’s right in between her flat and her place of work, and two of the regular daytime baristas are really friendly.

The _other_ two, though…

Lily has tried to figure out their schedule. She really has. But they either have no proper schedule, or they switch shifts just as often as they don’t. Lily did ask, once, because she was so, _so_ sure that Remus was supposed to be there on Fridays, and then he _wasn’t._

Instead, it was the one with the long black hair and the cold but amused grey eyes. He smirked at her when she saw him, and she barely held back a groan.

Still, she approached the counter anyway.

“I thought Remus was supposed to work today,” she muttered, even as Sirius began putting in her order (he did not need to ask her, not anymore).

“He was,” Sirius told her. “But aren’t you so glad you get to see me instead?”

When she left that day, it took her hours to wipe the scowl from her face.

Sirius is not so bad, though. Not on his own, at least.

It’s when he’s working with James that Lily _really_ feels like pulling out her hair.

Which is unfortunate for her, really, since they work together far more often than they don’t.

“I don’t know why you don’t just stop going,” Severus said to her one day last winter over lunch, as they talked about their respective mornings. For Lily, she had started her day off with none other than James himself.

He’s worse than Sirius, in Lily’s opinion, because while Sirius is obnoxious in his own way, James is terribly flirtatious with her. Really, she ought to tell his boss, but, then, he _does_ make really good coffee…

At the time, she just offered her best friend a weak smile, though. “It’s just...well, why stop now? They’re annoying, sure, but it’s not like I can’t deal with it.”

“Still.”

“The coffee is good,” she insisted.

Severus looked uncertain, but he wisely said nothing more about it.

She started going to the café about two years ago, when she moved into her flat and started at her current job. Before, when she was still going to school, she lived quite far away, but now that she can walk from her flat to the office, she can swing in on her way by and get her morning fix of caffeine from somewhere _other_ than the office (because it is absolutely disgusting and shouldn’t even be _called_ coffee there). She was hooked the very first time she went, served by the barista named Peter, who was a little timid but was more than kind enough, and so she kept coming back. The next time it was Remus, then Peter, then Remus, and then…

James and Sirius.

Apparently, the four of them are best friends. But James and Sirius are closer, almost like brothers, according to Peter.

But Lily’s not so sure if that’s the right title for them, not really.

They were better in the beginning, but the more she kept coming, the more annoying they got. By the time she was a regular, they seemed completely convinced that they could talk to her as if they were good friends, if good friends were outrageously flirty and sarcastic with each other constantly, that is.

One time, she made the mistake of taking Severus with her for a quick lunch date.

After just one interaction with James and Sirius, he has never gone back, and Lily would certainly never ask him to.

But, really, it’s not so bad now. More a fact of her life, maybe. Sometimes, she can even laugh at their antics, and then she wonders what in the world has gotten into her.

They’re not exactly _bad_ men. And they’re probably no older than she is, somewhere in their early twenties perhaps. Lily thinks that she went to uni with boys far less mature than James and Sirius, so, in some ways, they’re actually fairly decent. Comparatively, at least.

And they’re not _always_ annoying. When they tell her to have a good day, she knows they mean it. And when James writes out her name on her coffee cup, he puts a heart over the I instead of a dot, which is actually kind of adorable, in a way, and Sirius almost always has a compliment ready for her when she walks in the door, whether it be on her outfit or her makeup or her hair. They are a little rude, sometimes, but she can’t be bothered to find it terribly offensive anymore. So, they’re obnoxious, and she likes to complain about them, but she probably wouldn’t trade them for any other baristas in the world.

Which, of course, is the problem.

Severus tells her often that she ought to just try out a new café. She’s not that picky about her coffee, not really, she just doesn’t like the sludge that her coworkers try to pretend is coffee. There are other places near enough to her workplace that it wouldn’t really be out of her way.

But she always says she can’t, because it’s just too convenient.

Except that it’s not totally true, and she doesn’t know why she refuses to admit it.

Or, she does. Kind of.

But if she lets herself get too close to _that_ thought, she could go mad, so she doesn’t.

Instead, she just drinks her coffee every day, and she makes James and Sirius reside very far in the back of her mind even after her nearly daily interactions with them.

Today is a Monday, which is in many ways the best-worst day of the week (best because weekends tend to be terribly boring for Lily and Monday workdays are actually just a _little_ bit shorter than the other days of the week, but worst because she always, _always_ winds up being served by James or Sirius or _both_ of them in the morning), and Lily takes great care in looking good today. She does enjoy her job, though she knows that she’ll have to spend years writing boring articles that will be shunted to the back of the paper before she’s able to _really_ enjoy it, to report the fun sorts of stories she always dreamed of writing about when she was younger. Journalism, she has learned, is not really as exciting as films make it seem, but she certainly wouldn’t want to spend her life doing anything else.

The cafe is always pleasantly quiet in the mornings. Save for a few others grabbing something on the go for the morning, there is rarely ever anybody here besides Lily. Still, she always leaves much earlier than she needs to, always telling herself that, one of these days, there really _will_ be a morning rush.

Remus informed her once, though, that they actually see more customers in the afternoons.

“I guess not everyone is as addicted to caffeine as you are,” he joked, and Lily was only able to manage a half-hearted glare in response.

In truth, they do see a fair amount of traffic in the mornings—Sirius told her so, about a year ago—but because everyone with a job is always so damn hassled, they never stay long. Lily, though, he said—well, Lily _does_ stick around, and he always appreciates her for it.

It’s probably the nicest thing Sirius has said to her. Ever.

But, even as she mulls it over, she knows it isn’t true. He’s very kind to her; often, he even inquires about her job, asking if she’s still writing those boring old articles that hardly pass as news, even on a good day.

Her answer is: always, of course, because they are so very tedious and apparently the utter lack of exciting local news will never really change, but she brightly adds that at least she doesn’t have to publish strictly obituaries anymore, as was her job when she was still interning.

He seems to find her charming, Lily thinks, but certainly that has something to do with James, who must think she is the most beautiful girl in the world—Lily knows, because he’s told her this at _least_ a dozen times. Secretly, Lily thinks James and Sirius might share braincells or something, because they certainly act like one person, conveniently separated into two.

Which, Lily supposes, is why Peter told her that they’re like brothers.

But Lily isn’t so sure. She loves Petunia dearly, but she certainly isn’t _that_ in touch with her sister’s thought processes.

Today, when Lily comes to the cafe, it is James that greets her.

“Morning,” he says brightly. “Have a good weekend?”

Lily frowns. “Pretty boring. Same as usual, you know.”

“Right, of course.” James is grinning at her; Lily thinks it has been well over a year since he has talked to her _without_ a smile on his face. “Well, normal is good, right?”

“You’re hardly one to say so,” Lily shoots back, but her words have not held venom for many, many months.

James laughs. Idly, Lily thinks that it is a very melodic sound, and then pushes that thought very, _very_ far away when she realizes it.

“I’d say she’s right, mate.” This is Sirius. He has been making her coffee, while James leans against the counter and chats with her.

With an air of mock offence, James points out, “But _you’re_ the one who’s still friends with me.”

“Never said I had good taste,” Sirius remarks, still quite focussed on his task.

James shoots a wink at Lily. “He’s only saying that ‘cause you’re here, of course.”

“Of course,” Lily says dryly. “As if either of you two could ever be best friends with anybody else.”

“Touché,” Sirius concedes, amusement in his eyes, as he passes Lily’s coffee over the counter. When she reaches to open her wallet, he adds, “Don’t worry about it. On the house, for our most favourite customer. I like your dress, by the way. Very summery.”

“Thank you,” she says, and she means it. “But I can pay for my own coffee, at least.”

This is not the first time they’ve offered this, but she’s never let them pay for her before and she certainly won’t be doing so today.

James waves a dismissive hand. “C’mon, you give us more money in a day than some of our other regular customers give us in a week. Really, you’re here so often, maybe you ought to put in an application.”

Lily snorts. “As if. Do you really get your coffee for free?”

James’s face falls, just a bit, but Sirius pipes in with an affirmative “Yep,” and James is quickly nodding in agreement, whatever emotion that was sullying his good spirits wiped completely from his face.

Lily narrows her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

“Trust me,” Sirius tells her firmly. “It’s completely true. James just wouldn’t know, because he _hates_ coffee.”

Lily blinks. “ _Really_?”

Now, James is scowling.

“Really,” Sirius continues, tone dropping to something slightly conspiratorial. “Can’t stand it, even with all the sugar he tries to put into it to make it better. He hasn’t even tried a cup since we were in high school.”

Sirius’s gaze flicks briefly to James, as if he is sharing some terrible, treacherous secret with Lily, and then, with grandeur, he says, “But he would like to _pretend_ he drinks coffee, so he can have something in common with you.”

Both James and Lily stare at him for a moment, and then James groans, and Lily is laughing, laughing so hard that her stomach aches, and when she is finally able to catch her breath, one look at James’s face is enough to send her spiralling into another fit of giggles.

“Now you’ve done it,” James grumbles. “You’ve broke her, mate.”

“H-how in the world would you think that drinking coffee would _impress_ me?” Lily wheezes, clutching her sides. “You complete dumbarse,” she adds, for good measure.

“Not _impress_ ,” James stresses. “I’m impressive enough as I am, you know!”

“Oh, I’m sure she does,” Sirius mutters, and Lily’s smile is so wide her cheeks are beginning to hurt.

“So impressive,” she says, “that you can’t even brush your hair.”

While James’s cheeks redden, Sirius lets out a bark of laughter.

“Go easy on him,” Sirius tells her. “His ego is very fragile.”

“That is usually the case, with men.”

James and Sirius both protest to this, but Lily is grabbing her coffee and gathering up her things again.

“Have a nice morning!” she calls back as she leaves the cafe, and it is only until she is halfway to the office that she realizes she never did pay for her coffee.

Suddenly, it is much harder to push the baristas to the back of her mind.

“Sneaky buggers,” she mutters to herself, startling an older woman walking beside her. Sending the woman a hasty apology, she picks up her pace and tries very, very hard not to dwell on it.

The best-worst day of the week, indeed.

* * *

Perhaps that was the event that changed things, she thinks about a week later.

Certainly, Lily has never before felt like she _owed_ them something, at least nothing more than a “good morning” or a “thank you,” but now she finds most of her waking hours—and even some of her sleeping hours—haunted with the thought that she has to repay them, some way or another.

The following Tuesday, she finally decides to bring it up to Remus.

He seems surprised that she is even asking, though.

“I doubt they want anything from you,” he says as he makes her coffee. “They just like you. It’s not like either of them can’t afford a coffee, anyway.”

“Yes, but…” She looks up at the ceiling, frustrated. “Well, they’re _men_.”

“Yes,” Remus says slowly. “They are.”

“And James has, I don’t know, some weird crush on me, doesn’t he?”

At this, Remus laughs. “That’s true,” he allows, “but I hardly doubt that he’ll actually act on whatever infatuation he may or may not have with you. Not as long as Sirius is around, anyway.”

He sticks a lid on her cup and passes it over the counter. She accepts it, hardly feeling how hot it is against her hand.

“I don’t understand,” she says. “What’s Sirius got to do with anything?”

“Haven’t you ever wondered about them?” Remus raises an eyebrow at her— _be honest,_ he’s saying.

“W-well, sure, but Peter says—”

“Peter sees what Sirius wants him to see. We went to boarding school together, Lily. _Boarding_ school. We shared a room with them for seven years. Just because Peter is oblivious doesn’t mean _I_ am.”

Lily scrunches up her nose. “I’d rather not hear about what happened in any shared rooms, thanks.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just mean that you shouldn’t worry about it. Although,” he adds, almost like an afterthought, “they do still have casual sex together, so—”

“Remus!”

She does _not_ like the grin he shoots at her.

“Well, it’s true,” he says. “They try to keep it quiet, but it’s pretty obvious, if you’re not in denial about it like Peter is.”

Something stirs uncomfortable in Lily’s stomach, but she isn’t quite sure what it is, exactly. Relief, maybe? But, no, it’s something else entirely, something more…

“Are you _sure_?” she presses. “I mean, like, have you _seen_ —?”

And then she stops, mortified, while Remus laughs at her.

“Would it be better or worse if I had?” he asks, teasing.

“Shut up,” she mutters, cheeks flaming. “How do I know you’re not just messing with me, anyway?”

“Maybe you should try asking them,” he suggests, lips twitching, and she _tries_ to glare at him, but she suspects the look she musters is actually something much more pitiful.

“I’m leaving,” she declares after a moment. “If you ever bring this conversation up again, with _anybody_ , I’ll kill you.”

“Noted,” he says, but his stupid little smile is still there.

She huffs, turning on her heels and making her way out of the café.

The walk to work seems longer today, but she knows it’s just because she can’t get Remus’s words out of her head. Why should it even matter, really? It’s not like she wants to get with James, nor does she really care what they do or don’t get up to behind closed doors. Frankly, it’s none of her business.

_But_.

Well, is it so weird for her to fixate on it, at least a bit? After all, she’s known them for, well, _years_ now, and she did think that they were _really_ close, closer than she is with her own best friend, with her own _sister_ , and she has never been able to put a title on their relationship before, but now…

Well, no. Good friends who shag sometimes are still, really, just _good friends_.

And this circle of thinking continues to haunt her.

For _days_.

The next time she sees James and Sirius, she can hardly look at either of them for embarrassment. They seem to think that she’s annoyed because they tricked her into letting them buy her coffee, and, for once, she’s fine with letting them have the wrong idea—grateful for it, even.

Eventually, she decides all she can do is confide in someone about it.

She doesn’t talk to her sister a lot anymore—they fought, years ago, and only just recently managed to make up while Lily was in uni—but she’s been due for a weekend trip back home, anyway. She arranges it with her parents, and then heads out on Friday after work once they’ve assured her that Petunia and her husband—and their toddler, Dudley—will be there too. She doesn’t see her nephew often, but every time she does she becomes more and more convinced that he is a terribly spoiled brat, but he is just a kid, after all. His father, Vernon, is much more obnoxious in Lily’s opinion.

But they’re family now, so she doesn’t say a word about it (except to Severus, because he loves to complain about people with her).

They have dinner together, and then settle in to play a game of cards while Vernon boasts about his new promotion or something. Honestly, Lily thinks his job sounds terribly boring, but what can she say? Just two days ago, she wrote an article about how one of the local dog parks had to be shut down for a few days because there was so much dog shit to clean up. Sometimes, hers is a crappy job indeed.

And it certainly doesn’t _pay_ as much as Vernon’s did, something which Petunia and Vernon are both determined not to let her forget.

It doesn’t matter, though. Even if sometimes she brags, and other times she makes Lily want to pull out her own hair, Petunia is still her sister and she loves her dearly.

So, the next day, she takes her out for lunch.

And Petunia immediately hits her with: “So, still no boyfriend, then?”

Lily stares at her, aghast.

“You’re not getting any younger,” Petunia reminds her, unhelpfully.

“I’m not interested in anyone,” Lily says sulkily. “Besides,” she says, squaring her shoulders and looking at her sister with a failed attempted at determination, “I wanted to ask you about...something like that.”

“Something like that,” Petunia repeats.

Lily takes a long drink of water, almost wishing it would drown her. Her cheeks burn fiercely, and from the look on Petunia’s face, she suspects her embarrassment is obvious.

“Well,” she finally says, “it’s just—these baristas, at the cafe I always go to. One of them flirts with me _all_ the time, and the other one, his best friend, is always egging him on, but, well, one of their mutual friends who works there, he says that they—they—well, they’re like friends with...with benefits, and I…” She trails off, looking very far away from her sister.

“Uh-huh,” Petunia says, sounding awfully unimpressed. “Most guys are like that, you know. They just like to mess around, but if he likes you, then he’d probably stop if you asked him out.” She shrugs. “Do you think that other girl likes him?”

Other girl?

Lily is very quiet for a moment, trying to remember what exactly she said, and understand what exactly Petunia is implying.

And then she says, “Er, well, his best friend isn’t a girl.”

Now, Petunia is quiet.

Lily rushes on: “I don’t think it _matters_ , though, of course not, I just mean—”

“He can’t be into you, because he’s gay?” Petunia suggests.

“He could be bi.”

She rolls her eyes, as if Lily has said something very, very stupid. “Come on, Lily. Everyone is one or the other.”

Lily opens her mouth, then closes it again, stumped.

“Anyway,” Petunia continues, “maybe he does that with everyone he serves. You know, some men are like that, too, it’s not just those sleazy women…”

“Flirty women aren’t _sleazy_ ,” Lily tells her.

Petunia waves a dismissive hand. “ _Either way_ , it probably doesn’t mean anything. Maybe you were so desperate you just read too far into it. It happens to everyone sometimes.” She shoots Lily a pitying look.

“But—”

“Oh, really, Lily, it’s nothing. Besides, it’s not any of your business, is it? If you do like him, just say something and then he’ll tell you if he’s bent or not. It could just be, you know, experimental or something, too. Or maybe their friend was just having you. You really should ask him out,” she adds. “You need to start seeing someone.”

Lily bristles. “I don’t want to ask him out!”

“Then, why are you so interested in his sex life?”

She has no response for that.

“There you have it. Well, I can’t say if I would agree with your taste or not, but you really should try it out. Once you start dating again, you’ll remember why it’s worth it. Men can be a hassle, but settling down with one isn’t so bad. You’ll see.”

“I…” Lily lets out a large sigh. “I’ll think about it,” she says, but she is going to try very hard not to.

Petunia smiles at her. “That’s the spirit,” she says.

* * *

If she thought Petunia’s advice was bad, Severus’s is about ten times worse.

“They’re arseholes anyway, Lily,” he points out. “You said so yourself.”

“Yeah, but, Sev, they’re still…”

He looks incredibly unimpressed. “I’ve heard the way they talk to you. Don’t tell me you _like_ that?”

She shakes her head. “No, God, no. I just mean—I see them nearly every day! It’s not—it’s not a _bad_ thing to be...interested, right?”

“Lily,” he says slowly, “all I’m hearing you say is that you’ve been thinking about two men shagging for well over a week, now.”

She blanches. “Th-that’s not—”

“You should really start going to a different café,” he says. Unhelpfully.

She pushes the plate of biscuits on the table between them closer to him.

“I think you need to learn a new phrase,” she retorts.

He takes a biscuit, but he’s scowling at her.

“You’d find it weird too, right?” she presses. “I mean, _honestly_.”

“I _do_ find her weird,” he tells her between bites of biscuit. “I met them once, and they seemed pretty straight to me.”

Lily huffs, but what can she really say? She thought the same thing, herself, until only recently.

“You don’t really need to date, though, right?” He raises an eyebrow at her. “You do fine on your own. You don’t need someone else.”

“I could see someone and still have nothing more about my life change.”

He says nothing.

“You don’t really think that I’d become—what? _Dependant_ on some guy? I have my own life. Anyone I go out with would respect that.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re just like Tuney,” Lily complains. “She thinks I need to ‘settle down.’ What the hell is that supposed to mean, anyway? This isn’t the seventeenth century, you know! A woman can have a family _and_ a job _and_ she can be happy about it.”

Severus has gone quiet. Lily suspects he is probably tuning her out, because this is a conversation they’ve had often—one he’ll usually respond to with “Yes, Lily” or “You’re so right, Lily” or “Tear those misogynistic bastards down, Lily,” though she’s really not sure if he’s saying it because he agrees or just to make her feel like he’s truly engaged.

Not that she cares, either way. Now, she’s saying it _to_ him, rather than just at him. His face is whiter than normal, his jaw set as if not to snap at her.

“And where does anybody get off on telling me whether I should or shouldn’t date?” she demands, voice elevated enough that if they weren’t in her own flat, people would be staring. “I have other priorities, sure, but that doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ to! Or, maybe I don’t! What does it matter? _I’m_ the only one who gets to decide that, so don’t even try to— _presume_ you can tell me what I can and can’t do!”

She stops, exhaling deeply. With renewed composure, she takes a biscuit off the plate and chews it slowly, carefully.

After a very long moment, Severus says, “That’s not what I meant.”

She shoots him a withering look.

“I’m sorry,” he amends. “I don’t think I know how to help you with this, Lily. I’m not sure I would want to, either.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it just as quickly. She could hardly blame him for not wanting to get involved with James and Sirius, of all people.

“Anyway, maybe you just need some distance,” he continues. “That’s what I do when something is bothering me that much.”

Oh, yes, Lily knows that. Severus very well could’ve gotten a degree in self-isolation, if such a thing existed.

“I still want my coffee,” she mutters, sullen.

He gives her what is the closest thing to an apologetic look he could probably muster right now. “Have you ever looked into getting a coffee pot?”

Ridiculous, she thinks. _Everyone_ is a critic.

The look on her face must be enough of an answer for him, because he sighs. “Just for a couple days?”

Lily is probably an addict. Maybe. Addicted to caffeine.

Or addicted to whatever else she can get at the Marauders’ Café.

She groans, dropping her head down on the table. Severus reaches over and pats her hand consolingly.

When she finally lifts herself up again, he is clearly trying very hard not to laugh at her.

“Fine.” She huffs. “Just a _couple_ days.”

The first step to recovery is, of course, acknowledging one has a problem in the first place.

So, they shake on it.

Lily _definitely_ has a problem.

* * *

Staying away from the café turns out to be easier said than done—and, really, Severus would be the first to tell her it hadn’t really been said _easily_ in the first place.

She drinks the coffee at the office, because some part of her feels like going to a different café is like a kind of betrayal. To whom, she isn’t sure, but it doesn’t feel right and so she’ll make do with the disgusting sludge instead.

She’s basically counting down the hours until “a couple days” have passed, which she has a feeling is the _opposite_ of what she’s supposed to be doing, but—well, she misses it, and she might even admit, just to herself, that she misses James’s smile, too.

The way he puts a heart over the I.

Sirius’s compliments.

Their banter.

The way Sirius looks at James.

The—

Wait.

She stops. In front of her, the document on her computer is far emptier than it should be, but her thoughts are far beyond whatever bland story she’s been writing out since this morning.

_The way Sirius looks at James_.

Well, she always _said_ they didn’t act like brothers. Sex is one thing, but…

She shakes her head.

Boys are so _confusing_.

Before she can make up her mind otherwise, she saves what she has so far and checks the time. She wasn’t planning to go anywhere for lunch—in fact, she packed a lunch from home, though right now the sandwich in her bag is just about the last thing she wants—but she knows her mind won’t rest until she does this, so she’ll just have to, well, _do it_.

She hurries to join some of her other coworkers as they head downstairs, chatting amongst themselves aimlessly. Not interested in melding in with the crowd, she pushes past them to get to the doors first, but stumbles a bit as she makes it there.

Frowning down at her feet, she makes one more hasty decision: she takes of her shoes.

As she begins to run, there is a voice in her head already telling her that this is a bad idea.

Too late, though. Her body seems to have overridden the authority of her brain completely, and there would be no stopping it now. Not even when she steps on something sharp enough to make her slow down.

She comes to a halt, breathing hard, and looks down. There, on the sidewalk behind her, is a shard of glass.

Scowling, she lifts her foot to assess the damage. It’s bleeding, but she’s sure it could be worse. Besides, her destination is just a few metres ahead, so she hobbles onward, feet grasped tightly in her hands.

Flinging the door of the café open, the first person she sees is Remus.

Her heart falls, but then—

He steps out from behind Remus, and she knows the stupid glass and her stupid foot and her stupid sandwich don’t matter.

There’s a line—it is lunch, after all—but Lily doesn’t mind waiting, now that she knows she hasn’t made this rash trip for nothing. Besides, her sprinting has ensured that the line isn’t _too_ long, and it is only a matter of minutes before she is standing in front of Remus, who raises a questioning eyebrow at her.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he says after a moment, clearly seeing that she isn’t planning to explain why she isn’t wearing her shoes on her feet (it occurs to her, briefly, that her shoeless feet may be a health hazard, but she quickly pushes the thought aside).

“I made a deal,” she tells him breathlessly. “But now I’m here, and I— Oh, dammit, I need a coffee, _please_ , Remus.”

He snorts in amusement. “If you say so. Sirius, come here.”

The two men trade places and Remus sets to work making her coffee.

“I left my wallet at work,” Lily realizes.

Sirius blinks. “Huh?”

“My wallet,” she says impatiently. “I left it at work. And I stepped on a shard of glass. I _hate_ you.”

To her annoyance, he laughs. “I don’t think that’s the way you should be talking to the guy who’s just about to give you a free coffee.”

“I don’t care about the coffee.”

“What?”

“The coffee. It doesn’t matter.” She sighs, frowning at her shoes. “I really did step on glass, though. I think I’m bleeding.”

Sirius stands still for a moment, and then turns and heads for the back of the building. When she doesn’t immediately follow, he glances back and gestures for her to do so.

Remus catches her eye as she goes and offers her a smile. “Your coffee is here when you’re ready for it.”

Suddenly, her chest doesn’t feel so heavy. “Thanks, Remus.”

She follows Sirius to a small table near what looks like a storeroom of some sort.

“Sit here,” he tells her. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

She does as she told, her adrenaline declining very quickly. She came here with a distinct purpose, but now the very thought of breaching the topic makes her stomach twist painfully.

After just a few short minutes, Sirius returns with a kit, which he places on the table.

“All right, let’s see this foot, then.”

She wiggles her toes nervously, then swings her leg up so her foot lands on the chair across from her. He leans down to inspect it, pressing something wet around the wounded area. Lily tries hard not to wince.

“So,” he says conversationally as he looks up again and begins digging through the kit, “why are you walking around with your shoes on your hands instead of your feet.”

“I can’t run in heels,” she offers weakly.

“What were you running for?”

She sucks in a deep breath. “I needed to see you.”

He freezes, just for a moment. Then, he visibly relaxes and—his shoulders begin to shake.

“Don’t laugh at me!” she protests. “If I’d known some moron had dropped their glass on the ground, I would’ve been more careful!”

“But what in the world were you coming to see _me_ for?” He looked back at her, grinning. “You’re a weird woman, you know.”

She sniffs. “And you’re a weird man.”

“I’m not denying it.” He sticks a large bandage against her heel, then steps back, as if admiring his handiwork.

“I just wanted to talk.”

This seems to catch his attention. He watches her carefully, eyebrows furrowed. “Am I in trouble?”

With a heavy sigh, she drops her shoes on the floor, then brings her feet down and slips them on again. With her foot out of the way, Sirius takes the other chair, eyes never leaving her.

“I just…” She trails off, biting her lip.

“You can swear me to secrecy, if you like.” He pushes the kit aside and offers a pinky out to her.

She looks down at it dubiously, then meets his eyes. Earnestly grey, she figures that he really will take whatever she has to say seriously.

She hooks her pinky around his and they shake.

“Right,” she says. “It’s about James.”

Something incomprehensible flickers in Sirius’s eyes, but it is gone as quickly as it comes. Affecting nonchalance, he asks, “What about him?”

Lily isn’t stupid (though she sometimes makes stupid decisions, but that in itself doesn’t mean much other than that Sirius and James seriously screw with her head). She knew from the beginning.

“Do you love him?”

Sirius doesn’t even bat an eye. “Of course I do. He’s my best mate.”

Lily shakes her head, though. “Not that kind of love.”

Silence.

Hastily, she says, “It’s okay if you do. I was just—”

“He doesn’t know.”

Lily stops, heart clenching.

Sirius meets her eyes across the table, looking almost grim. It takes a moment for Lily to realize that, behind the darkness, there is a great sadness in his eyes.

“I don’t intend on telling him, either, for the record. Remus says that too. That I should tell him. But it would just fuck everything up. You get it, don’t you?”

He sounds almost like he is begging her. Desperately, she wishes she could put his mind at ease, but she isn’t sure how she possibly could.

Carefully, she ventures, “How do you know it would do that?”

He lets out a barking laugh. “You have a best friend, don’t you? What would you do if one day he told you he was in love with you and didn’t know to make it stop?”

Well, honestly, she’s not sure. She doesn’t think she’s really Serverus’s type—if he even has one at all, that is. The man gets so wrapped up in reading books and scowling at unfamiliar children on the street, Lily highly suspects he’s never even considered dating.

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond, though.

“I just want him to be happy. That’s it. If that means standing off to the side while he marries someone else, then—” He stops. Coughs. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m not great at commitment anyway.”

Lily studies him, thinking hard. “But he’s attracted to you?”

Sirius blinks, surprised. “Where did you get that idea?”

Oh, for God’s sake.

“Remus said, uh…” She looks away from him cheeks heating. “You have...um...intimacies?”

She doesn’t dare look up at him, but then—

He laughs.

Startled, she forgets her embarrassment entirely and snaps her head up to see him. He’s watching her with a familiar sparkle in his eye, far more comfortable than the solemn sadness that was there only moments before.

“You’re so funny,” he says, like it’s a compliment. “You can just say it, you know. Yeah, we have sex sometimes, but that doesn’t have to be about attraction or anything. Sometimes you just need to...you know.” He shrugs.

Lily scrunches up her nose, but makes no remark on his wording. Instead, she asks, “Are you dense?”

“Excuse me?”

“Sirius, do _you_ sleep with people you aren’t attracted to?”

He goes very quiet. Then, barely more than a whisper, he admits, “I’ve only slept with James.”

For a moment, Lily thinks she mishears.

But, no—she definitely didn’t.

“What the _hell_?” she demands. “Do you even realize how stupid you sound right now? ‘ _I’m not great at commitment._ ’ ‘ _Yeah, sometimes we shag, but it doesn’t mean he thinks I’m fit_.’ Is James this thick too?”

“What are you saying?” Sirius folds his arms on the table, leaning just a little bit closer to her. “I’ve spent a lot of years thinking about this, for the record. I know James better than anybody else.”

“Oh, clearly.” She rolls her eyes. “So well, you know him, that you can’t even tell he loves you too.”

She says it like a challenge, but he just looks down at his hands, not biting.

“Don’t,” he says hoarsely. “Don’t tell me that when _you’re_ the one—”

He stops, clenching his hands into fists.

“Sirius?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, tone suddenly flat and cold. “If you’re worried about me being in the way, don’t be. He really fancies you. He’d be beyond thrilled if you asked him out.” With that, he stands up and slams the first aid kit closed. Fixing her with one more dark look, he adds, “He’s working tomorrow, if you want to get another shard of glass stuck in your foot.”

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving Lily to stare at his retreating figure.

She stays like that for a moment, then shakes herself. A voice in her head that sounds awfully like Severus’s tells her she ought to be angry, but it just isn’t there. This isn’t the Sirius she knows, the one who laughs with James and tells her her dress is pretty and tells her to take her coffee for free, because she’s their favourite.

On numb legs, she returns to the counter. Remus shoots her a concerned look as she picks up her coffee, but she can’t quite manage to return it with anything other than a blank stare.

Only after she leaves the cafe does she realize that this is the second coffee she has gotten for free from them. Somehow, the thought makes the drink taste a lot more bitter than it really is.

* * *

She turns Sirius’s words over in her head about a thousand more times before she wakes up the following morning.

It should have been obvious, she thinks. From the very start, she knew.

And Remus told her, didn’t he? _Peter sees what Sirius wants him to see_.

She calls in sick to work. It’s rare that she would take a sick day, even if she _were_ sick, but she doesn’t want to let her personal business screw with her work for a second day in a row. Besides, she can work at home. It’ll be just like being in uni again, finishing up her work at dawn of the day it’s due.

She figures there’s no point in wasting time, and heads out around the same time she would leave for work.

The cafe is even emptier than usual, so when she opens the door, the two baristas immediately notice her.

James waves and grins, but Sirius turns away with a scowl. Lily’s chest tightens at the sight of it.

With slow, cautious steps, she approaches the counter and sets her purse down on it.

“I brought money for yesterday,” she says quietly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sirius tells her, but his voice is strained and he still won’t look at her.

James frowns. “Yesterday? You were here? We haven’t seen you in so long! Thought you’d finally gotten sick of us.”

Whatever tension is between Sirius and Lily, James either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. Lily is beginning to think that the former may be more reasonable, at least in matters involving Sirius.

“Can we talk?” She knows she is begging, but she doesn’t think, anymore, that either of them will judge her for it. “I know you’re pissed off, but can’t I just say what I want to say?”

There is one other person, tucked in the corner by the west wall, who looks up at them curiously.

James, too, seems rather interested in knowing what’s going on.

“Did you fight? I’m telling you, mate, you shouldn’t pick a fight with her. She’d beat the shite out of you.”

Sirius clenches his jaw. Turns around to look at them both. Unclenches it.

“We didn’t fight,” he says smoothly. “But I think you’ve already said more than enough, Lily.”

“Shut up,” Lily snaps. “I don’t care if you’re scared or whatever. You can’t just—run _away_ from everything.”

“I’m not running away from anything!”

“Sounds like a fight to me,” James says uncertainly.

“Can we just _talk_?”

“Of course.” James glances around the café briefly before fixing her with a bright grin. “I always like talking to you.”

“Lily, _don’t_.” This is Sirius, white-faced, wide-eyed. When they first met, she was certain that there was nothing in the world that could take away that aloof aura of his.

But this…

“Please,” she says, as firmly as she can.

She holds his gaze for what feels like a very long time, but eventually he drops it and lets out a short sigh.

“Come sit with us, then,” he tells her, already turning to step out from behind the counter. James scrambles to follow his suit, and Lily trails behind them as Sirius leads them to a secluded table just barely in line with the door.

At least, Lily muses, he’s responsible.

But she thinks she already knew that, as hard as she’s been trying these past few years to pretend otherwise.

“Talk,” Sirius tells her, glancing down at his watch briefly and then looking back up at her with one raised eyebrow.

She takes in a deep breath, thinking about all the hours these thoughts kept her up last night. She knows these men. _Well_. She understands Sirius’s insecurities. James’s hesitancies. Their shared obliviousness.

“I have feelings,” she declares.

“Wow,” Sirius says, dryly. “A spectacularly human thing, that is. Sometimes I did wonder.”

“I have _specific_ feelings,” she amends, scowling. “Feelings that I think you two can both understand.”

Sirius narrows his eyes, but James tilts his head, looming puzzled.

“Both of us?”

She nods.

“I don’t want to be a part of this,” Sirius growls. “I already told you—”

“I fancy you!” Lily blurts, then stops. Replays the words in her head. Looks down at her lap, horror crawling through her system.

Both boys are quiet. Perhaps they don’t know which of them she was addressing. If she’s being completely honest, she’s not really sure herself.

But she was looking at Sirius. Sirius, with those stupid sad grey eyes and his stupid “commitment issues” and his stupid exclusive sexual relationship with stupid James Potter.

Stupid Sirius.

She _hates_ him.

Finally, she looks up.

Sirius’s face has grown very pale. He’s staring at her as if he has never seen her before. “You...what? But—I told you— _James_.”

James, too, seems rather shocked, but if he’s disappointed, he’s hiding it well.

“No worries, mate. I wouldn’t want to compete with you, anyway. You’re just too charming.” He laughs, but Lily really, really just wants to bang her head against the table.

“There’s nothing to compete for!” She crosses her arms over her chest and looks between the two of them. “I fancy _you_ ”—she points at Sirius, then turns her finger to face James—“ _and_ I fancy _you_!”

“Er, what?” James blinks. “But, Lily—”

“And I won’t leave here,” she says loudly, “until you two admit you fancy each other too!”

James shoots Sirius an incredulous look, but Sirius’s eyes are on Lily, betrayal written all over his face.

“I told you already,” he spits. “He’s _my_ best mate. I think I’d know—”

“I don’t know if _fancy_ is the right word for it,” James muses, talking over Sirius as if he hadn’t even realized he was speaking. “We’re a bit involved, aren’t we?”

Lily snorts. “ _A bit_? But, James—he’s pretty fit, isn’t he? Such a nice figure… It must be hard not to stare, working here together all day long.”

James is nodding thoughtfully. “That’s true. He can be distracting sometimes.”

“Uh-huh.” Lily clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “And—you like being ‘involved’ with him? You wouldn’t want to stop?”

James opens his mouth, then closes it, as if the question has completely stumped him.

“You’re kind of like a package deal, right?” she rushes on. “I mean, you’re inseparable! You complete each other.”

“Lily.” Sirius’s eyes are on the ceiling, his palm flat against the table. “Stop.”

James rests his elbow against the table, turning to study Sirius closely.

“I think I’m starting to get it,” he says seriously. “But Sirius doesn’t feel that way about me.”

Lily hates James, too.

“What way?” she asks innocently.

“Oh, you know…” He waves his hand in the air. “The love-y way, I reckon. He just likes to fool around a bit, sometimes, that’s all.”

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“Do _you_ just like to ‘fool around’?”

He seems to consider this for a moment, then shrugs. “Well, sure, but I probably wouldn’t do it with someone I didn’t have feelings for. Honestly, Lily, I was kind of using you to get over Sirius at first. Sorry for that.”

She laughs at this, shocked and yet nowhere near surprised to hear it at all. “That’s honestly kind of cute,” she remarks.

“What are you doing?” Sirius’s whole body is tense. His glare is half-hearted at best.

“You never asked him,” Lily says quietly, smiling fading fast. “That’s why you thought he didn’t love you back.”

James’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean? Sirius…?”

Sirius looks away from him, mouth firmly shut.

Lily sighs, leaning forward against the table. “Well, anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s up to you anyway. Both of you. I just thought you should know—well, maybe it’s not really very conventional, but according to my sister, I’ll never be conventional anyway.” She interests herself in one of her sleeves, tugging at a loose string near her wrist. “ _Apparently_ , it’s rather telling when you spend a lot of time thinking about, erm, two guys’ ‘involvement’ with one another.” She ducks her head, cheeks stinging. “I thought I came for the coffee, but I think it’s been a very, very long time since that was the most important thing for me here. So...I get it. You’re a package deal. I wouldn’t want you any other way, so just...think about it, okay?”

Neither of them speak. With shaking hands, she reaches into her purse and pulls out a pen. Then, she grabs a napkin from the dispenser at the end of the table and hurriedly scribbles down her phone number.

“I won’t come by until you tell me,” she says quietly, chest tight with a feeling she can’t quite name. “It’s okay if you say no.”

With that, she gets to her feet and bolts for the door, not daring to so much as glance back at them.

* * *

Lily is a smart girl. Obviously. She’s logical, and, sometimes, she’s even rather inventive. It’s why she chose journalism, of all things.

None of this stops her from doing idiotic things.

It has been three days. Now, it’s Friday evening, and she’s watching some ridiculous film with Severus, trying to figure out how in the world she can tell him what she did.

Finally—though his eyes are fixedly glued on the telly—he says, “If something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

Of course, the one time she’s hoping he’ll be oblivious to her need to speak is when he’ll recognize the signs.

How typical.

She sighs, looking up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. “I did something stupid.”

He doesn’t say anything. Lily figures that’s the nicest way he can respond, given how often she does stupid things.

“I know it’s not really your thing,” she starts, dropping her gaze back down again, “but...what do you think of polyamory?”

He turns to look at her with a frown. “To clarify, you don’t mean polygamy, right?”

She shakes her head. “I just mean, like, dating two people, or whatever. How realistic do you think it is?”

He considers her rather seriously. “I suppose it would depend whether or not those two people one is hypothetically dating were named James and Sirius.”

Lily winces. “I didn’t—”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Do you really like them?”

She blinks, then pauses to think about it. Does she? She said so, and she has been thinking about it for a few weeks now, but…

“I don’t really have—you know, when you fancy someone, you’re supposed to get, like, butterflies, right?”

He nods.

“I don’t have that.”

“Then, it’s not a fancy.”

Of course it’s not.

Lily thinks she get it now, at least a bit. James and Sirius share some sort of connection that she thought, for a long time, she just didn’t really understand. But she _does_ understand. Their connection is love. That’s all.

Love.

She thinks, secretly, that it may be an infectious sort of thing. They smile at each other, and then smile at her, and she gets it. All those feelings they share—she gets them.

Because they gave them to her.

Her lips twitch up, just a bit.

“You know, Sev, I think you’re right.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, but she doesn’t say anything more than that. Instead, she stares ahead of her, smile widening.

“You’re such a weirdo,” he says, fondly. “If you want them both, then you should have them. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. It wouldn’t be hard for you to give that much love.”

She pauses for a moment, then, before she even realizes she is doing it, she flings herself at her best friend and wraps him in a tight hug.

“Thank you, Sev,” she mutters against his hair. “I love you too, you know.”

He laughs. “I know, Lily. I love you too.”

Even when she does stupid things—which is fairly often, if she’s being honest.

But that’s what best friends are for, isn’t it?

Suddenly, she is feeling a whole lot less nervous about James and Sirius’s decision.

* * *

One of them texts her.

She isn’t sure which one it is, because he doesn’t say. But she knows it’s one of them. Knows from the way it’s worded, from the emotions behind it.

_We miss you_ , it says. And then: _Let’s talk over some coffee, okay?_

Because, of course, they know the way to her heart. She likes to pretend it’s the coffee, but they’ve never been opposed to pretending along with her.

It’s a Sunday, so she has nowhere else to be. Even if she did, though, she thinks that she might rather be doing this anyway.

She looks through her closet and finds that one dress of hers that Sirius never fails to compliment when she wears. She puts her hair up, less because it’s hot out and more because she knows James likes when he can see her whole face—because he has told her, after all, at _least_ a dozen times.

Maybe it’s silly of her, but she can’t help being hopeful. She’s been watching James and Sirius for years, now, hasn’t she? Been annoyed with them for years. Kept coming back for years.

The way Sirius tells himself James is like his brother. The way James flirts with Lily, because Sirius will never love him that way. There are all these little lies they like to tell themselves, like how Lily just likes the coffee and it has nothing to do with James’s smile or Sirius’s jokes.

So, she can’t help it. Being hopeful. It’s just the sort of person she is, has always been. Severus says it’s the thing he likes most about her, her positivity. She likes to keep the glass half-full, most of the time.

But it feels more than half-full as she leaves her flat and heads out for the café. It’s not as if there isn’t a little knot of dread in her stomach at all. It’s just...well, it isn’t a fancy. She doesn’t need the butterflies when she already knows what lies ahead of her.

When she enters the café, she sees that Remus and Peter are behind the counter. She stops, heart dropping, but Remus catches her gaze. Inclines his head towards the west window.

And—there.

They aren’t here to work. They have no outfits, no name tags. They’re sitting across from each other, talking quietly, one freshly-made cup of coffee sat between them.

She flashes Remus a grateful smile, then hurries over to Sirius and James.

James sees her first, breaking into a wide grin.

She can’t help smiling back.

“Is this for me?” she asks, gesturing to the coffee.

Sirius looks up at her as she comes to a halt beside the table. “Yeah,” he says. “You know James doesn’t drink coffee, right?”

She laughs. “So I’ve heard.”

She pulls a chair from the table behind her and sits down between the two men. They watch as she reaches for her coffee, but neither of them speak.

Finally, she looks between them and says, “There isn’t much _talking_ going on here.”

James coughs. “Right, well, we talked to each other.”

“And now we’re going to talk to you,” Sirius adds. “We just need to figure out how.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a contemplative sip of her coffee. “Maybe,” she suggests wryly, “you could just start with saying what’s on your mind.”

“You,” is James’s immediate answer.

Lily almost chokes on her coffee.

“I’m convinced you came into our lives just to fuck everything up,” Sirius informs her. “And we just let you do it.”

“You’re very talented at fucking things up,” James offers.

“ _Me_?” Lily huffs. “You’re one to talk!”

James at least has the decency to look embarrassed. “It’s a good thing, I mean. We like it.”

She raises an eyebrow at him.

“We’re saying we thought about what you said,” Sirius says. “A lot.”

“And?”

“We decided we don’t like it when you stop coming around.”

Lily’s lips twitch up at that. Her heart is beating fast, but it’s far from a bad thing.

“Yours is my favourite coffee to make,” James tells her. “I reckon I could even make it from home, if you’d let me.”

They’re both watching her, expectant. It occurs to Lily that they’ve always been like this with her, able to get their thoughts and feelings across with very few words.

They’re arrogant. They’re insensitive. They’re immature, in all the worst ways.

But they make her laugh. They know when to apologize. They make her feel wanted and loved, and it really isn’t about owing them anything at all.

She has spent a lot of time telling herself she doesn’t like James and Sirius. She didn’t, at first. Only the coffee. Remus and Peter.

It’s just one of those lies she likes to tell herself.

Lying hasn’t done much good for her, though, in the long run.

“Okay,” she says. It is enough.

They grin at her.

She takes a drink of her coffee, but there would be no hope of it hiding her own smile.

The Marauders' Café is her favourite.

It's conveniently located, between her flat and the office. They have amazing coffee. And, her favourite part of it?

Well, they're sitting right in front of her, waiting for her to finish her coffee so they can step out into their new, fucked-up-in-a-good-way life with her.

It doesn't seem like she'll ever go to a different café after all.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated! xx


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